Their Vows
by Ioannis
Summary: A series of unrelated ConYuu drabbles. "Conrad had sworn his hands, his heart, and his life. Yuuri? Well…"
1. Small Things

**Hello all, I am back with more writing! I do most of my talking at the end, but I suppose I do want to mention this as a fore-word. I am quite the fan of the two drabble series 'Contact' by pyrrhicvictoly and 'Full Circle' by artemis-nz. I will admit they are my biggest inspirations to do my own series, though I am hoping to stay original with my own separate prompts. I will do my best to touch on new ground, though do forgive me if any of my drabbles have any similarities to the ones of these two marvelous writers – they have quite the head start on me.**

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**Chapter 1: Small Things**

As expected of a young man slowly moving through his teenage years, Yuuri was quite unsure of himself in many things. Although, not many of them were things one would expect of someone is his unique situation.

Yuuri was growing into his role as King of Shin Makoku with a surprising amount of ease (chalked up by Gunter as natural talent and charisma, and 'an unprecedented amount of dumb luck' according to Gwendal). He had accepted that he would probably never be great with a sword, but he was fundamentally against violence and was pretty okay with how things were. He had collected quite a mass of friends inside the country and out, and was slowly building peace throughout the realms.

And he had Conrad.

His longtime companion and recent lover had always been at his side, giving him a shoulder to lean on and lending his hands when necessary. Conrad was his anchor. Conrad was also, unfortunately, the source of much of Yuuri's stress.

To put things simply, Yuuri felt inadequate.

Conrad was a constant thing, he was stability, always immaculate and the picture of control. He walked with a deadly grace, his sword sung with a purpose (Yuuri could scarcely make himself believe that that purpose was him).

Yuuri looked at himself and saw sloppiness. He saw someone clumsy, someone selfish. His sword sang, but that was mostly due to the fact that he couldn't get it to shut up.

He was afraid - afraid that Conrad would eventually see that this was a terrible match and would leave him for a greater conquest.

Only a couple of weeks had passed since he and Conrad had gotten serious, but in that time the fear had controlled him.

It vibrated in the air around him when he and Conrad went on morning jogs, when he could tell from the soldier's even breath and easy strides that he was holding back to allow Yuuri to keep up.

It trembled through his fingers when he wrote notes to his lover, his handwriting shaky and uncertain despite the years of practice.

It clenched in his chest when he got on a horse, and he saw Conrad close by to catch him in case he fell (despite Ao being the gentlest of creatures).

These things had never bothered him before; they had always been small things. But now there was Conrad, and the things that had never bothered him before became glaring problems. He wanted desperately, more than anything, to be the soldier's equal. Yuuri had tried to tell himself that Conrad didn't care, that Conrad loved him, but there was always the fear.

It came to a head one day when Conrad invited him to play baseball, and stole him away from Gwendal's office with a disarming smile.

Baseball was Yuuri's idea of a good time. He felt safe with baseball. It was something that had been alien to Conrad, something the soldier had been _bad_ at before Yuuri took him under his wing. He thought he would be free from the fear while they played together.

But then after a few tosses, Yuuri made the mistake of looking at Conrad's face. The easy smile that was usually there when they played was gone, instead replaced by one of intense focus and deep thought.

The stony expression caught Yuuri off guard, and his body froze. The ball that Conrad threw sailed far short of Yuuri's raised glove, and instead connected with his collar with a sharp _crack_.

Yuuri cried out and crouched down, clutching at his shoulder.

"Yuuri!" Conrad sounded startled, almost shocked that the King would miss one of his pitches.

It took him only moments to reach Yuuri, upon which he found the teen with glistening eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" they both began, and then Yuuri burst into tears.

Conrad collected the double-black in his arms, and then carried the blubbering teen to Gisela's office (all the while Yuuri repeating his mantra of apologies).

After the healer had diagnosed Yuuri with a fractured collar bone and put his arm in a sling with orders to take it easy, she left the Maoh and his guardian alone together.

Yuuri had managed to pull himself together under Gisela's firm yet gentle gaze, but now that he was alone again with Conrad, he started to tear up again at the deafening silence.

"Yuuri," Conrad whispered quietly, almost as if he would break something else if he spoke too loudly, "I cannot apologize enough for what I have done-"

"It's not your fault." Yuuri replied firmly, but then more shakily, "I can't even play baseball right…"

Conrad looked aghast for a moment, and Yuuri buried his face in the one hand he could still lift, intent on hiding his tears.

"Yuuri..Yuuri, come here."

Strong arms wrapped around Yuuri, careful to not put too much pressure on the teen's wounded shoulder. Yuuri was drawn to that warm chest, where, face hidden, he allowed the tears to fall.

"You are a wonderful baseball player," Conrad began. "The best in the world in fact."

Yuuri gave a wobbly smile at that. Calloused fingers stroked gently over the hairs on the back on his neck.

"It's something that you love more than anything, and I…I should be the one apologizing. I wasn't paying attention."

"No, you're perfect, Conrad…" Yuuri hiccuped. "Too perfect, for someone like me."

Conrad never ceased his comforting strokes, but he was thoughtfully silent for a moment. Yuuri knew Conrad was clever, and probably had already deduced the root of Yuuri's troubles. They did after all possess a certain wordless communication between them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Conrad murmured, but didn't press.

Sniffling, Yuuri pulled away from Conrad's chest and gently took a large palm in his own. Determined not to let the fear deter him, he told Conrad everything – all his insecurities, about his crippling anxiety over his inadequacies, all the while never meeting his eyes. Instead, his gaze traced the lines on Conrad's palm, circling distractedly while he let his mind reel.

Conrad listened quietly. Yuuri knew he wasn't listening merely for the sake of listening – his knight would be taking everything to heart and turning it carefully over in his mind, looking for the best way to reassure him.

And then Yuuri froze, and suddenly all of his worries struck him as very silly.

He loved Conrad. And Conrad loved him. And Conrad knew that Yuuri knew that Conrad loved him. And likewise.

"Figured it out?" Conrad murmured, and lifted Yuuri's palm up to his lips for a chaste kiss.

"I am so stupid." Yuuri replied breathlessly, meeting Conrad's eyes without hesitation.

"Not at all," the soldier replied, and gently wiped away the errant tears on Yuuri's cheeks. "Just inexperienced."

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Later, after Conrad had snuck Yuuri up to the king's chambers while blessedly avoiding any of his other attendants, they shared a small candle-lit dinner on Yuuri's balcony. At Yuuri's request, everything was finger food.

"I really am sorry." Conrad said in a serious tone, looking quite guilty over Yuuri's arm. "That was your dominant hand, too. It's going to be a while before we can play catch again, I'm afraid."

"As if my handwriting wasn't bad enough already…" Yuuri chuckled to himself, but paused when he saw Conrad's face turn pensive. "What's wrong?"

"That is… the reason I was distracted in the first place. When I hit you with the ball."

Yuuri sat up a bit straighter in his chair.

"I was focused on improving my throw. You really are the best player in the world, you know. I've got to improve or I'll never catch up to you."

Yuuri couldn't help the look of surprise that flitted over his face. Conrad had been self-conscious about his throw? The knight in question gave a crooked smile.

"We are both very silly." Yuuri concluded, leaning back in his chair with exasperation.

"Very." Conrad agreed.

The soldier got to his feet when there was a knock at the door, a maid bringing them their requested food. When he returned with the dishes, Yuuri couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

"Gwendal is going to be so mad when he finds out I can't sign papers."

Conrad shrugged, setting Yuuri's plate before him before sitting down himself.

"It's no big deal."

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**Yaaay, first chapter is complete! A quick note, these stories won't be in order and they won't necessarily have anything to do with each other. The purpose of these drabbles is to simply explore the ConYuu relationship and yadda yadda. **

**I will happily accept any one word prompts (though keep in mind I'm a shy turtle and anything NSFW might scare me away, lol). Thanks for the R&R!**


	2. The Cut

**I daydream about these two too much, sigh**. **There's not much to do on this lazy Friday afternoon other than to write.**

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**Chapter 2: The Cut**

A frustrated sigh escaped Yuuri as he pushed the hair away from his face for the nth time that day, the weight of it being too much for the pins he had borrowed from Cheri. He tucked the obsidian locks behind an ear, but there were always a few errant strands that would escape and tickle his eyelashes, causing him to blink furiously.

Gwendal looked up momentarily from his records, taking in the annoyed, fidgety demeanor of the king.

"Why don't you take a break, Your Majesty?" he suggested flatly, mistaking Yuuri's frustration for extreme boredom.

Yuuri paused, considering Gwendal's offer. If he was the same person he had been when he was fifteen, he would have jumped at the offer and darted out of the room without a second's hesitation.

But now the young king was nineteen, well on his way to twenty, and he had come to understand the importance behind his seemingly endless paperwork. What he was signing wasn't just _paper_, it was agriculture policy, education budgeting, foreign aid distribution.

But he wasn't going to get anywhere with his hair flopping into his face like this.

"I'll be right back." Yuuri said gruffly, trying to convey to Gwendal that he was loathe to leave his desk, before trotting quickly out of the room.

He raced up to his bedroom, grabbing a letter opener off his writing desk before slipping into his private bathroom.

He assessed himself in the mirror, gauging the length of his fine dark hair with his fingers.

His hair had grown slowly over these past years, not once having been cut. His bangs, once having sat comfortably over his forehead, now hung down over his eyes. Curls of obsidian framed his face, the longer strands cascading over his shoulders and slightly down his back.

He recalled how Gunter had called his hair beautiful, and nearly pitched a fit when Yuuri had expressed a desire to cut it. Wolfram had nodded sagely in agreement, saying he definitely looked better with longer hair.

It seemed long hair was a fashion trend in Shin Makoku, but Yuuri just couldn't stand it anymore. He was raised Japanese, after all!

Sending a silent apology to Gunter, Yuuri picked up the letter opener with one hand, pinched his bangs together with the other, and began slicing with determination.

It was harder than he anticipated, but after a minute of dogged cutting with the semi-sharp edge, a clump of black hair came away in his hand. He dropped the letter opener in the sink, happier when he noticed instant improvement in his vision.

He regarded the results in the mirror, noting detachedly that his bangs weren't even by far, but he had certainly taken a few blessed inches off.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Yuuri went immediately to answer it. He was hesitant to open the door, however. If Gunter saw what he had done…The young king grimaced and took a few steps backwards.

"Who is it?" Yuuri called nervously.

"It's Conrad, Your Majesty," Answered a voice all too familiar.

Yuuri smiled in relief and opened the door wide, without worry.

"It's _Yuuri_." The teen greeted the soldier playfully, the familiar banter having become common practice for them long ago.

"I visited Gwendal's office to deliver some snacks, but he said you had 'escaped'."

Yuuri chuckled at that, moving out of the doorway to allow his knight entry inside.

"I had to take care of something really fast, but I'll be returning to my duties soon."

Conrad's sharp eyes had already taken in the double-black's noticeably shorter bangs, but as he entered the chambers, his eyes fell to the clump of black hair still clutched loosely in Yuuri's slender fingers. He arched an eyebrow at his king, causing the teen to grin sheepishly.

Yuuri closed the door and motioned for Conrad to follow him into the bathroom, where he picked up the letter opener and began measuring his hair once again.

"Yuuri," Conrad's voice was amused, "do you want any help with that?"

Yuuri considered it, when suddenly the mental image of Wolfram yelling at him over how he had messed up his hair and 'ruined his image' (or something like that) caused him to pause. He wasn't sure how much experience Conrad had in cutting hair, but it was probably better than anything he himself could do.

"If you don't mind…" Yuuri trailed off, glancing in the mirror at his knight, who nodded casually and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Wait here a moment."

Conrad absconded from the room, leaving Yuuri standing alone in his bathroom. He took this opportunity to decide just how short he wanted it, measuring absentmindedly in the mirror while he waited for Conrad to come back.

The soldier returned a few minutes later, his arms filled with folded sheets and towels. He pulled a sheet from the bottom of the pile and spread it over the floor, then ducked back into the bedroom where he picked up a chair with ease and carried it into the bathroom. He set it down on top of the sheet and gestured for Yuuri to sit.

Yuuri sat, and Conrad took another sheet, draped it over Yuuri's clothes, and tied it off behind his neck. He watched the soldier curiously through the mirror.

"Now, Yuuri," Conrad brandished a pair of scissors from somewhere on his person, "Hold still, if you would."

Yuuri couldn't help but crack a smile at Conrad's sudden change in demeanor, from casual to something far more serious and focused, as if a great and important task had been set before him.

Conrad ran his fingers through the teen's hair a few times experimentally – the rubs against his sensitive scalp sent a shudder down his spine. The soldier pulled a few strands out to measure, looking thoughtfully at the hair and then back at Yuuri's face.

A slight blush dusted Yuuri's face under that gaze, unused to the scrutiny that Conrad was now giving him.

"Ah," his voice cracked, as he remembered how to speak, "Nothing too short. Wolfram will get angry with me if I chop it all off. And Gunter will…well…you know."

Conrad gave an easy smile, meeting Yuuri's eyes in the mirror.

"It's your hair, Yuuri. How short do _you_ want it?"

Blinking, Yuuri took in the words and thought them over. Conrad had a point, but still, he would rather not blatantly stir up his aides.

Yuuri raised a sheet-covered hand, letting it hover an inch above his shoulder. Conrad nodded and began immediately, pulling a comb from his shirt pocket.

For the next several minutes, Yuuri allowed himself to relax. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the gentle tugs and the soft _snips_ of the scissors, occasionally feeling the feather-light tickle of hair caress his cheeks. He marveled at the strange intimacy of it, having Conrad so close.

He would never admit it out loud, but he had quite the crush on the half-breed soldier. He was barely keeping his giddiness in check, struggling to suppress the moans that wanted to escape his lips when those calloused fingers massaged against his head.

"Where did you learn to cut hair?" Yuuri found himself asking suddenly.

_Snip, snip._

"My hair was quite a bit longer than it was now when I went to the Military Academy. I had to cut it occasionally to conform to dress codes there. Yozak taught me."

Yuuri cracked a smile.

"Yozak _would_ know something like that, wouldn't he?"

He didn't have to see Conrad's face to know the soldier was smiling fondly, probably remembering the good times he had with his friend.

"A spy has many talents."

"I'm terrible with things like this." Yuuri puffed out his cheeks. "My mom hated to cut my hair, she always liked to put it up in pigtails."

There was a quiet chuckle from behind him. Mentions of his mother often got that reaction from the soldier.

"But long hair gets in the way in baseball. So I would always have to ask Shouri to do it at the beginning of every school year. I would show up for the opening ceremonies with barely any hair left!"

"It seems you have the opposite problem here, hmmm?"

The two were mostly quiet after that, Yuuri letting his guardian focus on his work. It was an easy silence, one were both of them were comfortable merely being in each other's presence. Yuuri let his mind drift back to the paper work that was waiting for him. Gwendal was probably wondering where he was, though the mazoku _had _suggested he take a break.

Time passed soundlessly. Yuuri almost dozed off in the sunlight of his bathroom.

There was a sudden tap on his shoulder.

"I'm going to fix your bangs now, Yuuri."

Yuuri gave a slight nod, and he heard the shifting of cloth and the light tapping of boots as Conrad came to stand in front of him. He cracked his eyes open slightly to peek at the soldier, who looked quite relaxed.

In the end, Conrad didn't spend much time on his bangs. Yuuri supposed he had mutilated them, and even Conrad could do nothing to fix them. But when the soldier stepped from in front of the mirror to allow Yuuri to see himself, Yuuri was quite impressed with his skill.

"It looks great!" Yuuri beamed with honest excitement, thinking Conrad had done a perfect job.

His hair still curled a bit around his face, but it swept neatly above his shoulders. However, it still possessed a messy mane-like quality that was so unique to Yuuri.

"I'm glad you like it, Yuuri." Conrad replied nicely, untying the sheet from Yuuri's neck. Neat clumps of black hair were stirred off his shoulders and drifted to the floor.

Yuuri stood, picking up the chair and taking it with him so that Conrad could fold up the sheet on the floor.

"Ah, wait a moment." Yuuri called, then bent down to pick up a small clump of hair. He clenched it tightly in his fist. "Thanks"

In a few minutes the bathroom had been cleaned, not a trace of Yuuri's dark hair to be seen anywhere.

"I guess I better get back to my work, huh?" Yuuri smiled sheepishly, knowing Gwendal was going to rib him when he finally got back to the office.

"I must continue my rounds as well." Conrad gave a small smile and a short bow, "Well then, Your Majesty."

"Conrad!" Yuuri burst out suddenly, catching the soldier off guard and causing his hand to fly to his sword belt.

"Oh, er, sorry. That is…" The double-black struggled to find the right words. He fished the strands of dark hair out of his pocket, now neatly braided and folded in a handkerchief. "On Earth, some people give locks of hair for good luck. Usually it's in a charm of some kind, but they don't make those here…"

Conrad looked at him in wonder.

"I'm sorry, it's kind of dumb…" Yuuri muttered, self-doubt starting to overcome him. He began to put it back in his pocket.

"No." Conrad caught Yuuri's wrist, drawing it carefully towards him. He gently lifted the folded handkerchief from Yuuri's fingers.

"Conrad…"

"I don't think it's stupid at all. I am honored to receive such a gift from Your Majesty."

"It's Yuuri." He squeaked, his face feeling unusually warm.

"Thank you, Yuuri."

Conrad's face was odd as he tucked the parcel into his shirt pocket, right over his heart.

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**Thanks for reading this chapter! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it! :**


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